Aaron Stupple published his book titled The Sovereign Child: How a Forgotten Philosophy Can Liberate Kids and Their Parents with Logan Chipkin in January 2025. Stupple is a friend and client of mine. Chipkin is a friend as well. But I didn’t let that influence my opinion of this great book.

The Sovereign Child builds on a parenting philosophy called Taking Children Seriously (TCS). Having been a fan of TCS for years, I was excited to read the book. Without making traditional parents feel bad, Stupple guides them to a better life with their children. A father of five, he expertly covers the usual points of contention between parent and child, such as screen times, bedtimes, and rules around food. He teaches us that such rules are not just kind of bad but utterly counterproductive: they often cause the exact outcomes they are intended to avoid and permanently damage the parent-child relationship. For instance, to foster a sense of famility unity, where everyone does their part, traditional parents often mandate that their kids help out around the house. Stupple explains (p. 156) that instead, “[f]orcing chores gives kids a reason to resent work, resent the family, and resent doing their part.” He further explains that rules forced upon children are immoral: a child is his own person and should have complete agency over his life.

The Sovereign Child gives current and prospective parents the courage to reevaluate the age-old but false dichotomy that a lack of coercion means neglect. Based on TCS philosophy, Stupple makes the case for a third approach: that of finding win-win solutions for everyone, both parents and children. Crucially and helpfully, Stupple provides a guide on how to switch from traditional parenting to the TCS approach, and how to come to an understanding, incrementally, with one’s spouse and extended family members who may disagree.

The book even reaches beyond the immediate application of child rearing into wider political and philosophical implications. Consider this brilliant passage about the dangers of forcing siblings to share, in which Stupple masterfully takes the child’s perspective:

Forced sharing would make me careful about my [property]. I’d want to conceal it. I would bitterly complain if I had to share my [property] more than others shared their stuff with me. If this forced sharing was a pervasive norm in the world, then to get stuff, I’d look at my neighbors’ possessions and then appeal to have them share those with me. If I wanted to target an enemy, I’d identify his most beloved possession and accuse him of not sharing it, just to spite him. Sharing is forced on kids to teach them to be kind and generous, but instead it inculcates them into a mindset of possessiveness, envy, enmity, and suspicion.

Note the wider implications of this passage with regard to taxes and the envy that pervades our society, which blames virtually all ills on productive men who don’t pay their ‘fair share’. Stupple knows that the real solution is abundance:

My kids readily share with each other voluntarily because they’re not worried about scarcity. If my daughter wants to share her ice cream but then runs out, I get her more. On the contrary, many parents will declare that the supply of ice cream is fixed—you only get one, and when it’s gone…it’s gone, because that’s life, you can’t always get what you want. But that’s not life—you can, in fact, almost always get more ice cream.

It’s beautifully optimistic passages such as this one that will make you want to devour The Sovereign Child in one sitting.

I do have some minor quibbles. First, not to out-TCS Stupple, but the book sometimes uses pre-TCS language. For example, traditional parents use words such as ‘tantrum’ to not take their children seriously; to downplay their concerns. Similary, people used to describe women who were understandably angry over unwanted authority as ‘hysterical’. We can find the word ‘tantrum’ in The Sovereign Child as well (though for innocent reasons); neutral terms like ‘anger’ or ‘complaint’ might be more consistent with the book’s philosophy. Stupple is in good company in this regard: authors who make great progress and race far ahead of their contemporaries are often somewhat limited by the current, outdated vernacular. For example, the great philosopher Karl Popper, whose epistemology underpins TCS (and whom Stupple duly credits), inadvertently wrote his first book in the language of his opponents, as others have pointed out before me. The later Popper then found his own linguistic footing, and I’m sure Stupple will find it, too.

Second, the book would have benefited from a few more passes of editing. I’m not a native speaker, but from what I can tell, sentences such as “One reason is because that is confusing.” (p. 142) and “the reasons a parent invokes for breaking up a fight is anything but arbitrary” (p. 132; link added) could have been improved in terms of grammar. Redundancies such as “candidate theories on offer” (p. 174) probably should have been caught. In addition, there are some issues of scholarship. Explicit references to Popper’s writings and also those of the originators of TCS – David Deutsch and Sarah Fitz-Claridge – would solidify Stupple’s arguments. For example, on page 151, Stupple gives Popper’s stance on the concept of utopia. In this context, it would be good to provide quotes and references to Popper’s corresponding works. Where did he argue against utopia and what exactly did he say, in his own words? Where did he present his alternative of piecemeal, reversible changes? Backing up claims such as “Popper recommends …” with evidence allows readers to check original passages to their own satisfaction. (Popper said mixed things about the treatment of children, which makes proper sourcing especially important to avoid misunderstandings.) In the section titled ‘Philosophical Underpinnings’, I don’t believe Stupple portrays Popper’s philosophy completely accurately. Though beyond the scope of this review, such shortcomings could have been avoided or at least improved with the proper quotes and references.

Then there’s Bryan Caplan’s featured review. It reads (bold emphasis removed): “Controlling your kids with a long list of rules is a lot of work. What would happen if you got rid of the rules? In The Sovereign Child, Aaron Stupple, father of five, tells us all about his amazing experiment in rule-free parenting. I doubt it will work for every family, but Stupple's story is worth hearing and worth pondering.” I understand that Caplan inspired Stupple to have more kids than he otherwise would have had. Stupple connected with Caplan on a personal level; I can appreciate that, and a simple acknowledgment would have been appropriate. However, Caplan is a tyrant who advocates forcing children to learn math. In his article titled ‘Unschooling + Math’, Caplan writes: “Every day, like it or not, you have to do 1-2 hours of math. No matter how boring you find the subject, you’re too young to decide that you don’t want to pursue a career that requires math.” This is exactly the kind of authoritarian nonsense that TCS is incompatible with in principle – read my parody of Caplan’s article here. Having Caplan write a blurb to promote TCS doesn’t make sense. Imagine if Frederick Douglass had gotten a slaveholder to write a blurb for one of Douglass’s books: that would have contradicted the book and alienated potential readers.

Caplan writes in his blurb that “[c]ontrolling your kids with a long list of rules is a lot of work.” Clearly, he fails to understand that the main problem with the rules of traditional parenting is that they are immoral and harm children – not that enforcing them is “a lot of work” for parents! His concern for parents at the expense of children betrays him. Caplan even voices his reservation about whether the book will help people: “I doubt it will work for every family […].” The point of promotional blurbs is that they be unreservedly positive. Why advertise a book using a blurb from someone who opposes the book’s philosophy and questions its feasibility? How can such a blurb do anything but undercut a book that correctly argues (p. 166) that “[f]reedom is […] incompatible with […] forcing [kids] to learn math”? If Stupple’s book ends up being as successful as it deserves, and society evolves to a point of true sovereignty for children, Caplan’s blurb will age poorly.

In any case, I’m a fan of The Sovereign Child. It has the potential to make many parents’ and – most importantly – children’s lives more fun, more moral, and more noble. Stupple’s advocacy of freedom is not just refreshing but true. He is one of the maybe two or three dozen people in the world who get it – who truly understand that the proper treatment of children is a question not of psychology or science, but of morals and epistemology. In the words of Dr. Seuss’s ‘Horton Hears a Who!’, a person’s a person, no matter how small – and The Sovereign Child speaks this truth like no other book on the market.

The Sovereign Child: How a Forgotten Philosophy Can Liberate Kids and Their Parents is now available as ebook and paperback on Amazon.